They were properly brought up, and sat still and straight, and took the luck fate brought them as gentlewomen should. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. Gerald was conscious of that sliver of irritation again at mention of the name. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. "Well, I'm glad she's spared this.
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